If you have read the latest journal entry posted at my deviantART or y!Gallery pages, you needn't read this one; it's the same one. It's for those few who know me only through Livejournal.

I'm in mourning. Complete and utter mourning. Gone. Everything's gone. Yesterday, in a state of hysterics, I had to wipe my computer clean. A virus, contracted God knows how, paralyzed almost every single function. There was no way to save anything.

My fan fics, outlines, music, artwork, and at least a hundred down-loaded mangas and doujins...GONE! I've been choking back tears for the past twenty four hours, reminding myself that not everything is lost. I do have handwritten notes and printed drafts, but the majority...*sighs* Feels like my heart has been ripped out.

The biggest loss thus far is a short fan fic I was working on for Endejester, based upon "Superior Needs Sleep Too". I was almost done! Almost done!! With my memory as poor as it is, it's very likely I won't be able to salvage any words or phrases I used. I still have the basic outline, but that is little consolation.

Now I have to go through notebooks and folders to see exactly what I have and what I don't. I'm dreading it.

If you have read the latest journal entries posted at my y!gallery or dA pages, you needn't read this one; it's the same one. It's for those few who know me only through LiveJournal.

I've had a jolt of reality this week. I nearly lost my husband in a car accident. I received a call just as I was getting up to get my son off to school, letting me know that he was in a collision, but that he was all right. He was at the ER of one of our local hospitals where I could come and pick him up at any time.

But first I had to stop shaking.

I don't know of anyone has ever received a phone call like that. I clearly remember the one my mother received when I was in elementary school apprising her of a head-on collision involving my dad. I'll never forget her face, and now I can honestly say I know how she felt. A part of you becomes disconnected while the rest of you continues with your routine. I gave Connor his breakfast, helped him wash his face and brush his teeth, packed his lunch, dressed him, and drove him to school. I watched my hand open the cupboard and grab his favorite cereal; felt the chill of the cold water when he splashed me in the bathroom; listened to a morning radio show while driving to town, but at the same time I didn't see or feel or hear anything.

The moment my son was out of the car, the tears wanted to come, but I didn't let them. I couldn't. People were depending on me. My husband. My boy. I didn't have the luxury of breaking down...at least not yet. Besides, driving in rush hour traffic is difficult enough without having tears blurring your vision. When I saw him waiting for me outside the ER, my expression must have been priceless because he smiled. I think he would have laughed if it wouldn't have caused him pain. His face had dried blood on it and he had a huge gouge in his bottom lip from biting down on impact. He moved very slowly and favored his left side. All I wanted to do was embrace him like there was no tomorrow, but I couldn't. I could only stand there and tell him I was so happy he wasn't seriously hurt. It felt so cliche, but it was the first thing that came to mind. And it was the truth.

It's been a day now, and I've had time to sit for awhile and truly process what has happened. We went to the towing yard to retrieve our personal effects from what's left of our car ('92 Honda Civic). There is a trunk, 2 back tires, and 2 back doors, but the rest is buckled inward. A guy driving a 4x4 pick-up truck ran a red light and Kevin t-boned him at 50 mph (80 kmh). Even wearing his seat belt, the cops at the scene cannot believe he walked away. Neither can I.

I am not a religious woman. I have struggled with faith my entire adult life, but I feel like I need to thank someone, something for not taking away the one person who brings out the best in me and loves me, faults (which there are many) and all.

Events like these tend to make even the most mundane individuals philosophical, but I will spare you that. I'm afraid...no, I know I would come across preachy and, in many ways, hostile, and I don't want to do that. This is not my first brush with death. Like most I have had relatives die from old age. I have lost friends to suicide and have watched relatives and friends alike taken too soon by cancer, heart attacks, and AIDS. I have mourned for all of them and evaluated my life with each of their passings, but this time...was...different. I wish I could explain. Perhaps someday I will, either through a journal, or maybe a story.

Thank you to everybody (anybody) who takes the time to read these. I appreciate it more than you know.

At long last, progress has been made! For those of you who have read my journals here and there (dA, y!Gallery, etc.), you'll know of my ongoing battle with a mysterious ailment that no doctor has been able to diagnose. After x-rays, blood work, ineffective medications, and an MRI on my spine, the only thing they've agreed upon is that it is neurological. Well, finally, I have been seen by a neurologist; the best one in the region so I've been told. Why it has taken so long, I have no idea, but my patience has paid off. Avenues that have not been explored are being done so now. To start things off, I'm having new tests done: a bone scan and another MRI, this one on my brain.

I felt such relief after my appointment. For over a year I have dealt with numbness in my extremities (particularly my hands), "ghost" sensations, periods of dizziness, sometimes to the point of collapse, and pain radiating from my spine, not to mention the frustration and bouts of hopelessness that went along with them.  I was so elated that aggressive action was finally being taken that the gravity of the situation was completely overlooked.

Now it has struck me. Hard.

Bone scans are performed primarily to detect "areas of new bone growth or breakdown" (information courtesy of WebMD). My neurologist is looking to see if possible bone fragments or bone chips in my vertebrae are pinching the nerve clusters emanating from my spine. Believe it or not, a bone scan will reveal more in this situation than an MRI will. I have the test tomorrow. I have to be at the hospital in the morning to have a radioactive dye injected into my arm; then come back two and a half hours later to have the actual scan done. It takes the dye that long to travel through my bloodstream and into my bones. Looks like I won't be visiting my parents any time soon. It can take up to 4 weeks for the dye to clear my system. If I were to travel across the border, I would actually set off their detectors. I know this because it happened to my dad once. He said he never saw so many customs agents seemingly appear out of nowhere and converge on his vehicle than he did on the day he and my mom were returning home from one of their visits, and that was 3 weeks after his test.

What has me concerned the most, however, is the MRI. This one will be to see if I have any lesions in my brain that are preventing it from sending "correct" messages to my central nervous system. In my case it would literally mean that my mind is creating the pain I've been having (and I'm not talking about hypochondria!). There is a disease that has these symptoms: muscular sclerosis (MS). Needless to say, when the doctor mentioned this, I freaked out a bit, but because I'm not displaying symptoms more common with the disease, she's fairly confident that it's not the source of my pain. The MRI is just to be sure. Still, it does weigh on the mind, probably more than it should.

I mean, there's nothing to worry about yet, right?

As if I don't have enough trouble maintaining journals for the sites I'm all ready a member of, I've gone and joined a new one: Facebook. What an evil, evil site. It's completely addicting, and it's safe to say there are other interests/sites I'd much rather be addicted to. Alas, I've only myself to blame. I'm too easily swayed.

I've also gone and done something that I might be chastised for (at least by a certain someone): deleted a story from my FanFiction.Net and deviantART accounts. I originally posted it last year around Christmas time, and despite my copious notes and lengthy outline, I wrote as far as chapter 2 before hitting a block. A very, very dense and impenetrable block; that is, until last week when I decided to begin anew. It just seemed like every time I re-read it I felt deep down that I could do better. I'm never completely satisfied with anything I create, whether it be with words or with pencil and ink, so I chalked up my feelings to my usual overly critical self.

But for whatever reasons, perhaps the feeling of renewal (or redemption) that comes with a new year or the new anti-depressant I'm on, I decided to start over. I think I needed to convince myself that deleting the story and beginning from scratch doesn't mean I've failed - it just means I'm starting over. I feel confident that I can write a better, more engaging story; one that others will like despite the fact that it contains a character of my own making.

But OCs are a whole other topic and a journal entry for another time.

Just a short entry to let everyone know that I have a new e-mail address: severedwing@live.ca  It may be temporary, it may not; I'll know for certain in a week or two. 

In case I'm not able to post a new entry before the holidays, I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Hopefully 2008 will prove to be a much more... creative year than 2007 did. Heaven knows the inspiration and ideas are there; they're just trapped in my head at the moment.

Hola! Que tal? Esta muy bien! - There you have it. My extent of the Spanish language. Sad, eh? I recently had to dredge up what little I remembered from my high school Spanish class when I traveled to the Dominican Republic last week. I just got back this past Sunday; 7 days of sun, blistering heat, and turquoise seas. Well, the Atlantic Ocean actually, but it was still crystal clear. For those not entirely sure where the Dominican is, it's east of Cuba and west of Puerto Rico. It is one of only two islands in the Caribbean that have two countries established on the same soil. The other half of the island is Haiti (I can't remember what the other two countries are). Just a little nugget I learned while I was there. Otherwise my time was occupied with my brother-in-law's wedding, getting a wicked sunburn (no matter how much lotion I applied - curse my freakishly pale skin!) and compromising my ability to make smart and well thought out decisions with unhealthy amounts of rum-based drinks. All-inclusive resorts are a mixed blessing.

But all in all I had a wonderful time. The first day or so was sort of surreal; it was my first time off of the North American continent. I couldn't believe I was actually there. It didn't take long for it to sink in though; you don't see many women sunbathing topless on North American beaches. After a few days you don't really notice anymore. The only thought that ran through my mind was what a brutal place to get a sunburn! Ouch!

Now I'm back to reality and, needless to say, it's a bummer. It probably wouldn't be so bad, but I came home to a house thrown into complete chaos. My husband, son, and I are moving and have a scant 3 weeks left to pack up the remainder of our household and paint the entire place white for the next residents. Surprisingly, I haven't had a full-out meltdown. Maybe the relaxed island atmosphere I experienced down south hasn't worn off yet. However, add Thanksgiving and the usual holiday insanity that precedes Christmas to the mix and I'm sure it's just a matter of time. I'm a ticking bomb waiting for detonation. Heaven help those who are within the blast radius!

Predictably my innate talent for procrastinating has kicked in as well as the return of my muse. I spent a good portion of yesterday re-reading the stories I have begun and all the outlines of stories patiently waiting to be started. For the first time in a long time I didn't cringe or automatically dissect and discredit what I had written. Now it's just a matter of making time to work on them even if I'm only able to churn out a few sentences at first; something is better than nothing, right? It's been so long since I've written anything, even something as rough as an outline, that I'm finding the need to psych myself up just to type out a word or two. Irrational fears can be so inconvenient.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll have something done by Christmas; 3rd chapter of "Last Child", part two of "Tension", or perhaps the beginning of something new entirely. You never know.

Oops! I had no idea it had been so long since I last posted an entry to my journal. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised; I'm not online nearly as much as I used to be. I check my e-mail, download the occasional scanlated manga, and that's about it (there are over 500 submissions waiting for me to browse through on my dA and Y!gallery pages, as well as numerous journal entries from artists/writers on my Watch lists!). It's becoming increasingly difficult to sit at the computer. I can't lean against the back of the chair, and despite the ergonomic set-up of my computer station, my arms and hands eventually become numb while typing. It's frustrating as all hell.

The pain management clinic was informative, but unfortunately the suggestions made by the doctor have not been working. I was on an anti-seizure medication usually given to epileptics, but all that gave me was some serious side-effects, the most taxing being extreme dizziness. I kept falling down. Funny, but impractical. I was wobbling around like a toddler learning to walk or a drunk, whichever comparison you prefer. I'd have put up with it if it was easing the pain, but, alas, it did nothing. The next course of action is being put on a tricyclic, an anti-depressant generally used to treat depression or cocaine abuse, but first I have to be weened off of the current anti-depressant I'm on. That takes approximately 2-3 weeks. I've been on anti-depressants since I was seventeen due to the fact that when I'm off of them I become unstable, cry at the drop of a hat, and am more susceptible to the malevolent voice in my head telling me that the world would be better off without me. It's been 2 weeks since I stopped the meds (which my husband refers to as my "happy pills") and, needless to say, it has been a challenge especially when I'm alone. It helps immensely to have someone around to keep me grounded in reality.

The good news is I start new meds next week. Though I'm not usually prone to superstitions, I'm keeping my fingers crossed and knocking on wood in the hopes that these new medications work. I also have an appointment with a neurologist the beginning of January. Maybe, just maybe, I'll finally have a diagnosis. Looks like I'll have to perform more charms!

I'll have to leave off from here (I can't feel my fingers). I promise to make a greater effort to update more regularly. Writing short entries more often is much easier than writing long ones every month or so. I miss writing and/or chatting with you all! Take care!

Yes, I'm still amongst the living. Much has happened since I wrote last. I had an MRI done on my spine in the hopes that I would finally, FINALLY be given a diagnosis on what the hell is wrong with me. So much for modern science. According to my report, my spine is "unremarkable." I kid you not! That is what it says all over the report: "bone marrow is unremarkable; conus medullaris...is unremarkable; visualized intervertebral disc spaces are unremarkable; etc..

I get the bloody point all ready!

Needless to say I was devastated at the news. Strange emotion to be feeling, eh? Here is a report telling me that my spine is healthy, and instead of being elated, I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It's my own fault for pinning my hopes so high on the outcome of the MRI. I was sure that it would show something, anything that would explain why I'm in so much pain, why I lose feeling in my hands and left arm, why the skin around my back and ribs is so sensitive to the slightest stimuli that you can't touch me. I've been living like this since December, and I think I've been more than patient with the medical community, but I'm at the end of my rope and the strands are starting to fray.

There is some hope. I have an appointment at a pain management clinic. A friend of mine who has Lupus recommended the doctor to me. He's supposed to be one of the best in Ontario. I guess we'll find out tomorrow afternoon.

But all is not gloom and doom! The results of the Ukeroth contest came in and I won 1st place! Talk about a jaw-dropper! I'm still stunned.

Agh! I have to cut this short. Real life is calling. Will write more soon!

I have been mentioning for the past month or so about entering a contest on y!gallery. In short, the challenge was to imagine what Sephiroth's dress uniform would look like. Well, I did it. I wasn't entirely able to finish it, but the story does have a suitable ending. Basically, I ran out of time; I had a midnight deadline to adhere to. Talk about last minute, eh? The finished product (i.e. with the love scene) will be on y!gallery, and perhaps here. Given all the crap that's happened lately I'm a little hesitant on putting anything...explicit in my journal.

Anyway, enough babbling; here it is.

Title: Tension
Author: me
Series: FF VII
Characters/pairings: Sephiroth and Zack
Rating: At the moment, PG-13.
Summary: Zack reports back to Sephiroth after a mission to find a pleasant surprise waiting for him. (Blech! I suck at summaries!)
X-posted: Soldiersmut, Zackfans, Sephyfans, and ffvii yaoi
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII. Square Enix does.
*Words or sentences in italics indicate thought.
( Read on... )

At least for me it is. I swear I have every species of butterfly and moth doing the conga in my stomach right now. I had no idea I was such a nervous individual until I started posting my writing and artwork on the net. It takes me two days to recover! But here I am prepared to post another work. Actually, this is merely an excerpt from my AU FF VII story "Last Child". I've written it for my best friend isflamma, who is the only person I know who can bend time and space and physically give another person a kick in the ass all the way from Finland. She keeps me going when I want to give up (Thanks sweetie!) and writes lovely stories with my silver-haired adonis in them. Mmm...yum.

I realize no one else will understand what the hell is going on, but I've decided to post this anyway. Most readers will probably "run" like hell the moment they meet my original character, which is right away. So I guess this is fair warning to those who have an aversion to OCs: don't take the Lj cut. My apologies if I sound hostile. I tend to get defensive when it comes to the whole OC/MS conflict. *taking a deep breath* Okay, I'm good. For those of you who are the least bit curious, please keep reading.

Oh, in case you have questions about Sephiroth's behavior, please keep a few things in mind: 1. It's the middle of the story; 2. This is the first time he and my character have been completely alone; 3. A few days earlier he just witnessed her suffer horrifically at the hands of Jenova because of him;4. Not to mention he's dealing with the whole I'm-no-longer-insane-how-do-I-behave-now syndrome. If your question hasn't been answered here, please feel free to drop me a message.

( Read me!...please? )

I had to share this. I intended to take a quiz to see what Organization XIII character I was, but the quiz is no longer active. So I browsed a bit and came across another that would tell you what Advent Children character you are most like. I think the results will surprise some of you.



I can't stop laughing. I love Vincent as much as the next hot-blooded woman, but me? It's because I chose the "I-prefer-to-spend-time-alone" answers to the majority of the questions...except one that asked what type of hairstyle do I like the most. Guess how I answered that one! >; )

I have too many journals. Granted I only have 3, but I might as well have 10 or 20. Updating them feels like a burden right now, which is why it's been almost a month since I've posted anything here. My apologies to those who take the time to read my entries. I am back. Maybe not in stellar form, but at least functional enough to type words into coherent sentences.

Time to get rid of the rather morose entry I left last week for a more...optimistic...outlook on my life. You'll have to bear with me. Even my best intentions sometimes turn sour. If that should occur, find the nearest rubber mallet and bonk me on the head. It's crude, but it's worked in the past.

Grrr. It's one of those days. One of those weeks. Actually, it's been more like one of those months. Oh hell! So far, 2007 has been one of those years! Sorry. I'm on an emotional roller coaster right now.

NOTE: This is an example of why not to write journal entries on an empty stomach with nothing but Coke in the house to drink! I misunderstood Divine-Star's last dA journal. *smacks self in forehead* Never does she state that she will no longer be displaying her work, just that her entry may be her last one. I made assumptions and ran with it! *meekishly* Sorry Divine-Star! A thousand apologies. I have decided to leave my original rant. Though I'm thrilled to see new work on her page, I'm still angry as hell!

It's harsh, I know, but let me tell you why. There has been an insane amount of art theft going around. People copying others' artwork to a different page, cropping it to exclude the name of the rightful artist, and passing said work off as their own. Do these people really think they're not going to be caught? Apparently so. The reason I'm so steamed is the theft-in-mention has been from one of my favorite artists on deviantART: Divine-Star. Not only does she draw a Sephiroth to die for, but her comics are extremely entertaining as well as gut-busting funny. One of my favorites by her is in my bio.

I must get some of my melodrama from my mom. She used to be in theater.

Yes, tomorrow's my birthday, and despite all the great gifts I've received so far this year, I still dislike them, or more appropriately, mine. I have no trouble celebrating other people's birthdays. I love buying gifts, singing "Happy Birthday", and eating cake and ice cream. Mine just feels like a ticking clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Wow.

That's all I can say at the moment. Wow. I had to have lost at least half the weight of the hair I used to have. Did that make sense? Hard to tell at this hour of the morning. Basically, my head feels much lighter. I no longer have locks that hang down to my butt. Now they cover my shoulder blades. You didn't think I was going to get it all cut off, did you?

Tomorrow is the day! At long last I'm getting my hair done. It's a birthday gift from my honey. Oh, how he spoils me! It originally was going to be a reward for reaching my 50 lb. mark, but that's still almost 20 lbs. away and my morale could use the boost now. It did take some convincing since I felt like I hadn't earned it, but Kev can be very persuasive. Very. Besides, he confessed his choice of gift  was not entirely for my benefit. He has his own selfish motives. >; )

I just received my third doujinshi in the mail! It's 60 pages long! I'm in heaven! It's titled "I Love You" and it's a Sephiroth and Cloud yaoi. The cover artwork alone is awesome! Makes you envy that spiky-haired little...Sorry. My love/hate relationship with Cloud is rearing its ugly head again. *chants to self over and over* Must-learn-to-like-Cloud. Must-learn-to-like-Cloud. *takes deep breath*

OK. I'm fine. Have to go! New yaoi calling to me!

You get the point.

My morale is at an all-time low. I have a cold AGAIN and a sore throat AGAIN and I'm currently in the process of losing my voice. That's probably a mixed blessing. Now no one will hear me bitch. Well, except for my readers, but my whining won't last long. In fact, it's all ready over.